


The Colonel and the Gunnery Sergeant

by Hmtomcat (TJfan72)



Series: Calendar Girl [3]
Category: JAG
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-02-06
Updated: 2001-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5235347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TJfan72/pseuds/Hmtomcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harm goes undercover as an enlisted Marine, Mac finds an inventive way to spend time with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Colonel and the Gunnery Sergeant

**Author's Note:**

> originally published 6 February 2001

PARRIS ISLAND, SOUTH CAROLINA  
EARLY FEBRUARY 2001

There are just some assignments that I hate. Sometimes, it's the fact that you're investigating people who really shouldn't be charged with anything. Sometimes, it's because you run into a brick wall because no one is being cooperative and you just want to bust some heads together until someone tells you what you want to know. And sometimes, it's just because it's a stupid case that should have been assigned to a junior attorney, but the Admiral decided to assign it to you because he thinks you're getting too big for your britches. Of course, that's always around the time that he's slashing the travel budget as well. At least I didn't have to drive to Parris Island this time. Thank God for small favors.

And then there are cases like this, but it's not the case itself that's the problem. Someone should be charged in this case – I just haven't gathered enough evidence to figure out who or how many people yet. Since I'm a Marine, although it hasn't been easy getting information, I haven't run into any real brick walls talking to the other Marines here. And as far as I know, the Admiral isn't punishing Harm and me for anything, unless he just gets his kicks out of making sure that we are separated, at least for a while.

And that's the problem with this case. Harm's here at Parris Island as well, but he's not with me. The Admiral thought that this was one of those cases in which we would get further if someone was working from the inside, so Harm's undercover as an instructor at the DI school here in place of the instructor who's been placed on administrative leave pending the outcome of our investigation. So Harm's pretending to be a Gunnery Sergeant and I'm here as the investigating JAG officer. Aside from the fact that it wouldn't do for the replacement instructor to be seen with the JAG representative, at least outside of an official capacity during the course of the investigation, there's the whole fraternization thing. I'm a Lieutenant Colonel and, at least in the eyes of everyone else on Parris Island, he's a Gunnery Sergeant and any hint of a relationship between the two of us is strictly forbidden under the UCMJ.

Ever since we first became romantically involved three months ago, we haven’t spent a single night apart until now. Even while away on cases, we end up hot bunking, ignoring the knowing looks from Gunny when we turn in our travel vouchers and only one of us has hotel expenses listed. Hey, we’re saving the government some money. What’s the use of paying for two hotel rooms if we only use one? It’s not like it’s against regulations for us to be involved nor is our involvement a secret. We’re just not broadcasting it.

But our usual travel arrangements don’t do us any good in this case because of the rank difference. I don’t think we could explain why a visiting officer is hot bunking with one of the enlisted instructors – at least, not without blowing Harm’s cover. So I spend nights lying awake in my off-base hotel room, frustrated as hell, while I’m pretty sure Harm does the same in his room in base lodging.

I miss lying in his arms, my head resting on his chest, being lulled to sleep by the steady thump-thump of his heart. I miss the tender good morning kiss we share. I miss just having someone to talk to whenever the need arises. And, of course, I do miss the sex. Since we’ve been together, we can’t seem to get enough of each other. Just catching the occasional quick glimpse of each other during working hours or having long talks on the phone at night aren’t making me feel any better.

After four days of living like this, I’ve decided that something had to break and apparently my hold on reality was it, or I wouldn’t even be contemplating what I’m planning to do. God help us both if we're ever separated for longer than that. I take a step back and study myself critically in the mirror hanging above the dresser.   The black leather skirt, barely falling to mid-thigh, is the shortest I’ve worn since I was a teenager. It’s topped off by a dark blue tank top with spaghetti straps, all of which leaves very little to the imagination. Over that, I threw on a leather jacket – one of Harm’s that I borrowed and haven’t returned, not that he minds. The outfit is completed by thigh-high stockings with garters and ankle boots with two inch heels.

During a chance encounter at Leatherneck Square early today, Harm quickly told me that he had accepted an invitation from some of the other instructors to go out to a local bar tonight, hoping to get one or more of them to talk about the case over a few drinks. Remembering a little bit about the area from my time here at boot camp, I recognized the name of the place he mentioned and know that it’s just one step up from a dive, which would be the reason for my manner of dress tonight. I’ll just hang out at the bar and watch my handsome sailor while he tries to gather information for our case. Then when he’s ready to go, I’m sure that I won’t have too difficult a time convincing him to steal away for a few hours with me.

Just in case – since it wouldn’t be beneficial for anyone to recognize a JAG officer hanging out at a bar and not just because of the fraternization thing – I’m also wearing a wig, a long red piece that no one would ever associate with Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, United States Marine Corps. My hair hasn’t been this long since I was a teenager, either. But no one should recognize me, except of course for a certain sailor who could probably recognize me across a crowded room in the dark.

I take a deep breath and smooth down my top, my nerve endings humming with anticipation. Just a few more hours and I can forget my frustration over being separated from the man I love – at least for a little while.

* * *

I take another small sip of beer and try to concentrate on the conversation at my table while drowning out the noise from the smoke-filled bar. I’ve been here nearly two hours and all I’ve gotten for my troubles is the beginnings of a headache from all the noise, more than one woman trying to pick me up and no helpful information for our case. I’d consider calling it an evening, but then I’d be facing a long night back in my cold, lonely bed. We spent four years apart and have only been together for three months, yet I miss Mac as if someone cut off a part of my body.

And it’s not just the sex, which is beyond great, just like I always imagined sex with her would be. I miss wrapping my arms around her, holding her close while she sleeps. I miss her beautiful face being the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning. I miss spending all my free time with her, just talking and laughing about anything and everything. We’ve been talking on the phone every night and while I admit that phone sex – after we update each other on our case, of course - does relieve certain tensions, it is still no substitute for the real thing.

Sam and Al are both looking towards the door and whistling, another noise that I’ve long since tuned out. They whistle at every woman who walks in the place, hoping to get one to pay attention to them. Thank God I’ve never been that pathetic. The gold wings that I usually wear practically guarantee attention, although these days I’m only interested in attention from one woman. They had tried to get me interested in girl watching about fifteen minutes after I arrived, until Tom – the fourth man in our group – pointed out that I have a girlfriend, something that I had mentioned to him a few days ago. Tom and I had been heading to lunch when I had seen Mac walking down a sidewalk a few feet away from us, so close yet so far away. My mood had darkened considerably and when Tom asked about it, I made a comment in passing about missing my girlfriend, declaring long distance relationships to be hell. Only this time, the distance between us isn’t one of miles.

I catch a whiff of something in the air, but shake my head, figuring that my mind must be paying tricks on me. It’s amazing I can smell anything through all the smoke in the bar. But I could have sworn that I just smelled her perfume. Nah. She wouldn’t be caught, shouldn’t be caught in a place like this. God, I’d never thought that I’d ever have it so bad over a woman that I’d start imagining her everywhere. It’s a strange feeling, but one that I’m not willing to give up anytime soon.

“Man, what I wouldn’t do to get under that one’s skirt,” Al exclaims and I look at Tom, rolling my eyes. Sure, I’m as red-blooded as any other male in this place, but why should I leer at women when I’ve got the sexiest woman imaginable, one who should be back in my bed soon? I haven’t met a woman in the last four years who can hold a candle to Sarah Mackenzie.

“They’re desperate,” Tom whispers, nodding towards Sam and Al. “They haven’t had any in a while.” I manage a chuckle and am about to take another sip of beer when a flash of black leather catches my attention. I don’t know why, but something compels me to turn around and I see a stunning woman settling onto a stool at the bar, dressing in a leather jacket and a matching skirt that just barely covers enough of her well-toned legs to be considered legal. I’m reasonably sure that I’ve never seen this woman before, but I can’t pull my gaze away, even as I remind myself that I’m a taken man. As the bartender moves off to fill her order, she turns and looks around, causing my eyes to widen in shock. Looking at her from the back, the long red hair threw me. But seeing her from the front, I’d know that face anywhere. It’s the same face that has haunted my dreams nearly every night for the last four years.

Releasing the breath I hadn’t even realized that I was holding, I excuse myself from the table and walk up to the bar, ostensibly to get something stronger to drink, despite the fact that my beer is still half full and that I have lost any desire to drink now that she’s here. Like a moth to the flame, I’m drawn to the empty stool beside her, sitting down as I motion to the bartender.

“I was beginning to wonder if I’d have to give you a lap dance to get you to notice me,” she says softly, giving me a sideways glance. I swallow hard at the image of a scantily-clad Sarah Mackenzie bumping and grinding in my lap. I’ll definitely have to take her up on the suggestion later. “I’ve been in this bar for three minutes and nineteen seconds. It’s never taken you that long to notice before.”

“Well, I *thought* I had caught the scent of your perfume when you walked in,” I reply, my eyes traveling up and down her lean form. If we weren’t in a crowded bar right now. . . . Shaking my head, I continue, “But I never thought I’d run into Sarah Mackenzie here.”

“Sarah Mackenzie doesn’t exist,” she replies, her fingers trailing over the bare skin my forearm. I clench my hand into a fist, trying to ignore the heat her touch is generating. “At least not tonight, since Colonel Mackenzie can’t be seen with Gunnery Sergeant David Burnett. I’m just another girl looking for a good time with a handsome Marine.” She almost laughs as she says that last bit, probably because of the humor in the idea of me being a Marine. Hey, I thought that I had done pretty well a few years back at Pendleton as Gunny Post.

Damn, I wish one of us had thought of this about three nights ago. Would have saved us a lot of frustration – and guaranteed some spectacular nights. “I was actually thinking about heading out of here anyway,” I reveal as I see her eyes light up through the haze and she licks her blood red lips. “I’m not getting anything here. But the rest of the night just started looking up.”

She grins saucily as she leans towards me, her breast rubbing against my arm. “I’ll just bet it is,” she whispers against my ear, her hot breath sending shivers down my spine as all my blood seems to pool in my groin. Her fingers move over the zipper of my jeans and I suck in a breath. “So are you ready to get out of here? My hotel’s not that far from here.”

“You don’t have to ask twice,” I declare, climbing off of the stool before turning and pulling Mac into my arms, letting her body slide against mine as she steps down as well. Turning to my companions, I call out, “Girlfriend came down from Quantico to surprise me.” Since Gunny Burnett supposedly transferred from Quantico, it’s not outside the realm of possibility that his girlfriend would hop on a plane for the short flight down to South Carolina. Right now, I don't really care what they think. My only thought is the woman who will shortly be back in my arms.

Ignoring the cat calls from Tom and the groans of disappointment from Al and Sam – Mac had been the woman they had been ogling and whistling at a few minutes earlier, I now realize – I wrap my arm around her shoulder and lead her out of the bar. The door’s barely closed behind us when I yank her into my arms, my lips moving hungrily over her neck and the exposed skin above her top. It’s like I’m drowning and she’s my last hope of rescue. “It’s been too long,” I groan against her skin, my hands sliding under her jacket and top to caress the satiny skin of her back.

“Kiss me,” she pleads, rocking her hips against me as she clutches handfuls of my shirt, as if she might fall if she weren’t holding onto something. I can relate because I feel exactly the same.

“I’ve been drinking,” I whisper in reply against her heated skin. If I’d known she was coming, I would have abstained. I know that she doesn’t mind it when I do drink, but I try not to subject her to it anyway. And if I were her, I don’t think I’d care for the taste of beer on my breath.

“It’s not like I’ve never kissed a man who’s been drinking before,” she points out, tilting my head up so she can look me in the eyes. Her voice is so soft and pleading as she adds, “I need you.”

With those three words, I’m undone. She sounds as desperate as I feel and I push her against the wall of the building, my lips capturing hers in a bruising kiss. I groan deep in my throat as my tongue battles hers, my hands sliding down her body to cup her ass, pulling her firm against me. Her hands aren’t idle, yanking my shirt from the waistband of my jeans, sliding underneath to scrape her fingernails over hard muscle.

Eventually, we break apart and I rest my forehead against hers, gasping for breath. Her breathing is harsh as well as I cup her face in my hands, rubbing my thumbs gently over her cheeks. As my breathing slowly returns to some semblance of normalcy, I suddenly realize that we’re still standing outside the crowded bar. “How far is your hotel?” I ask. Please let it be close, because after four days without her, I don’t think I can wait much longer to taste and feel and lose control surrounded by her.

“It’s about a mile from here,” she replies, her voice just as full of desperation and need as mine. “Where’s your car?”

“This way,” I say, practically dragging her across the parking lot to the blue Mustang convertible that I am renting for this assignment. I had to fight to get authorization for this car, but I didn’t think that a single E-7 would be seen driving just any old sedan. Anyway, sometimes I just miss my old convertible and the feeling of the wind in my hair. Up in DC this time of year, it’s too cold to let the top down on Mac’s car, but down here in South Carolina, it’s just warm enough right now that I can get away with it.

I'm not sure how we managed, given that we couldn't keep our hands and mouths off each other once we got to the car, but we got in the car and, tires squealing, pulled out of the parking lot, the blowing wind doing nothing to dissipate the heat emanating from us. I try to concentrate on the road, but it's hard with Mac sitting beside me, looking like sin wrapped up in leather. God, only a mile to her hotel, but this just may be the longest drive of my life.

* * *

How did I survive the last four days without this – without him? The last four days seemed to last as long as the first four years that we weren't together. My fingers are trembling as I try to insert the key card in the slot, Harm’s hard body pressed against my back, his hands cupping my unrestrained breasts through the thin silk of my top and his lips moving over the side of my throat. After getting a red light on my second try of getting the door unlocked, I sigh in frustration. We’re desperate for each other and I can’t even get the stupid door open and I don't really want to explain to the Admiral how we managed to get busted for indecent exposure and lewd conduct. Finally, I hear a click and see the green light on my third try, pushing the door open. We're barely in the room before Harm turns me in his arms and brings his lips down over mine as he turns us and pushes me back against the door, the loud bang as it shuts echoing in my passion-clouded mind like a gunshot.

I’m vaguely aware of the feel of the room’s cool air against my thighs and it registers somewhere in the back of my mind that he’s pushed my skirt up to my waist. I don’t mind. I know that this isn’t going to be slow and tender, taking the time to undress each other as we sample the pleasures of our bodies. This isn’t about making love. This is about lust, heated and physical. I feel like I’ve been out in the desert and I’m being offered my first taste of water in days. I lift one leg to wrap around his waist as he teases me, rubbing my thong against my wet center. We've barely touched and I'm oh so close to falling over the edge. My hands clench into fists as I clutch handfuls of his shirt. “Harm,” I plead.

I groan as he pulls his hand away and grasps the waistband of my panties. “Just rip them,” I moan against his ear, lacking the desire to move my leg so that he can pull them off me properly. A couple of hard yanks and the blue lace is falling to the floor as I press myself closer to him, rubbing my aching center against the rough denim of his jeans. The bulge in his pants feels so good against me, but I need more. Pulling back just enough so that I can slip my hands between our bodies, I swiftly unfasten his jeans and release his erection from his boxers.

His hands on my hips, he lifts me up, gazing into my eyes as he pauses at my entrance. As much as I'm able, I rock my hips towards him, encouraging him onward. With a groan, he enters me with a firm thrust and I wrap my other leg around his waist, allowing him to slide in just a little bit deeper as he pounds into me in a fast and furious rhythm. His jeans are rough against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs and my hands slip under the open collar of his shirt, fingernails digging into flesh as I lose myself in the fire burning out of control between us.

Even with no foreplay, the heat and desperation between us proves as powerful as any amount of loving foreplay and it's not long before my entire body is quaking and shuddering and I see stars as I swear that the world explodes around me, Harm following me over the edge seconds later with one last hard thrust that rocks me to my core. His body trembles violently against mine as he sinks to his knees, carrying me with him. I rest my head against his, closing my eyes as I breath in the heady scent of our spent passion, lacking the strength or desire to do any more than that.

"Think we can make it to the bed?" he asks, his voice soft, his breath hot against my cooling skin.

I don't even open my eyes as I somehow find the strength to manage a smile. "Ask me again in about fifty years when I find the strength to move again," I reply, only half joking. "For now, I'm not leaving this spot."

* * *

We did eventually manage to get up off the floor and get undressed, crawling into bed after ordering a pizza, since Mac eventually started complaining, as usual, of a different kind of hunger. The pizza box sitting between us on the bed, I watch as Mac nibbles on a slice of meat lovers. Okay, to be honest, my eyes aren't exactly focused on her mouth but on a couple of points south of there. "Enjoying the view?" she teases between bites, giving me a knowing grin.

I ignore the question, reaching over to play with a lock of her hair, twirling it around my finger. For some reason, she never removed the wig she wore to the bar. It's a different look, but one that looks good on her. I wonder what she would look like if she grew her real hair out. "So what made you think of this?" I ask.

"What? The wig or this entire evening?" she counters, glancing at my hand still playing with her hair.

"I was referring to this evening," I reply, kissing her bare shoulder. "But I do have to say that I like the wig. You look good with long hair. Maybe you should grow yours out."

"Easy for you to say since you wouldn't be the one who would have to put it up every morning for work," she retorts even as she looks pleased by the compliment. "As for this evening, as frustrated as I've been since we got here, I'm kind of surprised that I didn't think of it sooner."

"Tired of the nun-like existence after only four days?" I joke as she gives me a dirty look. She's probably regretting ever telling me once of her previous vow to live like that.

"I don't think very many nuns engage in phone sex," she retorts playfully. "Anyway, I happen to know that I'm not the only one who's been sexually frustrated while we've been here. Wasn't that you who practically jumped me in the parking lot of the bar? I didn't know that my prim and proper sailor had it in him."

"'Prim and proper'?" I question, lifting my eyebrows. "Where'd you get that from?"

She simply laughs, her eyes shining bright in the dim light. "Anyway, I've been desperate for you since that first moment I saw you in cammies a few days ago," she admits, biting her lower lip.

"Leave it to a Marine to find cammies arousing," I tease, releasing her hair to trace the outline of her collarbone with my fingertips. I can feel her shivering lightly beneath my touch.

"Remember Camp Pendleton?" she asks, smiling, a faraway look in her eyes. "You were undercover as a Recon Gunny."

"Yeah, and as I recall," I point out, "you got a big kick out of the fact that I had to salute you." Something in her expression gives me pause and I grin widely as an idea occurs to me. I lean back against the pillows, my hands behind my head. "I wonder if a certain Marine Major was having lewd thoughts about a certain Gunnery Sergeant."

"Lewd thoughts!?" she exclaims. "I'll show you lewd thoughts." I don't even try to fight her off as she climbs over the pizza box and straddles me, her hands pinning my arms against the wall. I could easily put up a fight, but I'd have to be crazy to fight off a naked Sarah Mackenzie pressed against me. Nope, I've long since come to my senses where she is concerned. Thank God.

As she leans in to kiss me, she grins saucily and adds, "Just promise that the next time I pick you up, you'll wear the cammies."

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Continued in Calendar Girl: Feburary (Valentine's Day, 2001)


End file.
